


Feel

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-23
Updated: 2005-06-23
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:04:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6457063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy finds comfort in the arms of an Englishman who isn't undead ; takes place during late Season 6 Buffy/Season 3 Angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

His body was soft and warm. Firm but not muscular. Human. Damn he felt so good against her skin.

Buffy looked up into the Englishman’s fierce blue eyes as she pushed her hips up to meet his. She hardly knew this man. He certainly was nothing like he was the last time she saw him. Not only had he transformed into a hottie, there was something dangerous about him now. Dark and cold and scary, but incredibly arousing too. Guess there was no getting away from the bad boy thing no matter how she tried. He’d been hurt terribly and she didn’t just mean that ugly red scar across his neck, the details of which he refused to give. 

_“I was injured during a mission. Nothing to tell.”_

He also refused to explain why he was no longer working with Angel. She didn’t push the issue. After her run-in with Riley back in Sunnydale, Angel was the last person she wanted to see. She simply couldn’t bear to find out how much better his life was than hers. Not that it was any of her business anymore anyway. She wasn’t sure why she ran away to L.A. knowing he was here. She only knew she had to get away from the demands of her friends, her family, her demon lover, and her life, if you could call it that. Spike was right about something, she did come back wrong. Or if it wasn’t her specifically, something about her life was wrong. Something was missing but she didn’t know what it was.

Buffy had found Wesley in a small grocery around the corner from her rented room. They’d exchanged awkward pleasantries, said very little about what had been going on in their lives since they’d last met, and after meeting each other’s eyes while walking down the street inexplicably found themselves locked in a desperate embrace. All she knew is that she wanted him.

They stumbled up the stairs to her small room, tearing at clothing and exchanging rough, wet kisses. There were no words, only sighs and soft moans and labored breathing as they fell onto the bed. She’d lost her top somewhere between there and the hallway and Wesley suckled her neck as one hand skimmed over a bare breast, pausing briefly to caress it, and then moved down to unbutton her jeans and slip inside. Buffy moaned softly and released her grip on his back long enough to push her jeans off and spread her legs wider. His fingers dipped into her soaked cunt and began a slow tortuous rhythm in and out as his lips trailed down to tease and pull at one tight nipple. His stubble prickled her skin as his cheek dragged along her sensitive flesh, but she didn’t mind it at all. It felt so good to feel. I felt good to find someone else who made her feel.

Buffy’s hands moved down to the front of his trousers and she released his erection into her waiting palm. Oh, God he was so warm and hard in her hand. She needed him inside her.

“Fuck me, Wesley, oh God, please, now,” she urgently rasped into his ear as she moved her hand up and down his length.

Wesley lifted his head and met her gaze. The look she saw would have frightened her had she’d been fighting him. This Wesley was a man who was fierce and passionate and thorough, whether he was fighting or fucking. Thankfully she was getting the latter of the two.

His slick hand slid from between her legs and moved up to squeeze her breast as he shifted himself and smoothly thrust into her. Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist and met each of his forceful movements. Even if he hadn’t known she was a slayer and could take it, she bet he’d be just as rough with her, just as insistent. Oh, fuck, this was good. It was almost like she’d been drinking. She was drunk on pleasure, or was it freedom, or pure not-giving-a-damn if the world imploded that night, as long as he would keep moving like that and hitting that same spot, oh fuck, she thought Spike was the only one who knew about that, no, won’t think about that undead British guy, got a warm, living, breathing British guy who’s got the same equipment and knows how to use it, and won’t expect undying love and eternal devotion from her when they’re done. She knew this because she knew it was the same reason he was fucking her. He needed to feel something too and not have to make promises and meet demands and make everyone happy and save the world. It was simply fulfilling a basic need.

Buffy let loose a hoarse, strangled cry as she came, and it was such a relief, oh God, not just to ease that sweet dull ache in her belly that began when Wesley’s lips first touched hers. The burdens were gone. For the time being they were gone, and all there was was a beautiful man she barely knows moaning her name in her ear as he pushed into her one last time. As he slumped against her shoulder with a satisfied sigh she felt herself drift off to sleep. She thought now she could rest, for a little while, at least.


End file.
